After I Invoiced the Billionaire for Three Years of Fake Love, He Lost Everything

The shove hit hard.

I stumbled half a step, barely catching my balance.

Lewis took the bag from Clarissa's hand and set it on the cabinet, then turned to look at me.

"Who said you could leave?"

A cold smirk crossed his face.

"When you signed the contract, Supplemental Clause Ten was spelled out in black and white."

"'Until Party A consents to termination, Party B must unconditionally renew for a three-month transition period.'"

He lifted his chin toward Clarissa.

"Clarissa just got back to the country. She's fragile—can't handle stress."

"And I'm not going to find someone suitable on short notice."

"Until I hire a proper caretaker, you'll stay and attend to her."

I froze for a moment.

"Doesn't Mr. Delgado find my presence... an eyesore?"

Lewis said nothing. He just stared at me, his gaze glacial.

I drew a deep breath and pressed the calculator in my hand back to life.

"That'll be extra."

The next morning, six a.m. sharp.

I was up and in the kitchen right on time.

Lewis had a chronic stomach condition—breakfast was always fresh-ground black soy milk and a warm sandwich.

Clarissa had low blood sugar. No matter how late she slept in, she needed her bird's nest soup.

All of it was in my professional repertoire.

At seven thirty, Lewis came downstairs.

He wore a charcoal custom-tailored suit, his tie hanging loose and unknotted.

Before, I would have walked over, taken the tie from his hands, and risen on my toes to knot it for him.

That was my "Warm Morning" service—two thousand dollars per occurrence.

Today, I stayed behind the counter, head down, slicing fruit.

Lewis walked to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

He glanced at the empty table, then at me.

"Tie," he said.

I set down the knife, dried my hands, and walked over to him.

But I didn't take the tie. Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened the payment screen.

"Tie-knotting service, two thousand per session." I held the screen in front of his face. "Mr. Delgado, scan first."

Lewis went still.

He stared at the QR code. His chest rose once, sharply.

"Abigail Fox." He used my full name. "Are you that obsessed with money?"

"Professional standards." My expression didn't waver. "No credit."

Footsteps sounded on the staircase.

Clarissa drifted down in a silk nightgown, her cheeks flushed with the softness of sleep.

"Lewis, fighting this early in the morning?" She walked to his side and reached for the tie in his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Let me help. Abigail used to be a socialite—she's not cut out for this kind of thing."

She rose on her toes and fumbled with the tie around his neck, her movements clumsy and unpracticed.

Lewis didn't push her away. His eyes stayed fixed on me.

Clarissa tried three times. The knot came out crooked, the tie hanging limp and lopsided around his collar.

"Ugh, this is so hard." She stuck out her tongue. "Lewis, am I hopeless?"

He pulled his gaze away from me and looked down at her. "It's fine. I'm not in a rush."

He took her hands gently and guided them through the knot.

The two of them stood close, their breath mingling.

I stood to the side and checked my watch.

Seven forty-five.

"Mr. Delgado. Miss Simmons." I spoke up. "Per the agreement, my working hours begin when you sit down for your meal. Since this is currently a tutorial session, I'll head back to my room."

I turned to leave.

"Stop." Lewis's voice cut through the air like a blade.

I stopped.

"Come here." He pointed at the bird's nest soup on the table. "Clarissa's hands are too delicate for hot dishes. Feed her."

A blush crept up Clarissa's cheeks. "That's not necessary, Lewis. I can manage on my own..."

"Let her do it." Lewis looked straight at me, his eyes devoid of warmth. "She took the money. She does the work."